


Immobile

by LicieOIC



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2497619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LicieOIC/pseuds/LicieOIC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumple has a wee accident with an immobility potion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immobile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doctorrsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorrsong/gifts).



> Just a short little ficlet, inspired by an adorable comic by doctorrsong - http://doctorrsong.tumblr.com/post/100671367881/rumple-has-a-wee-accident-with-an-immobility
> 
> You should definitely see the comic first before reading this, as there is not a lot of description of what happens directly prior to the action.

She was understandably upset. Well, so was he, all things considered. He’d spent all morning working on that potion, only to have her cause him to waste it all, and now his head and elbow were killing him from hitting the stone floor when he fell over.

But she hadn’t known what could happen, so there were a good couple of minutes with her kneeling over him and asking again and again if he was alright, to answer her, to tell her what to do, if he was hurt, etc. If it hadn’t been for the potion working perfectly and keeping him immobile, he would have said, _of course I’m not alright, you foolish girl, you should have stayed out of my laboratory like I’ve said a hundred times, and yes, I’m hurt, I think I might have a concussion, no thanks to you._

He couldn’t, however, say any of that. He couldn’t even blink or close his mouth, which would undoubtedly become dratted uncomfortable sooner rather than later. He’d have to think of a suitable punishment for his little maid…

And just as he was about to start thinking of ways to make her life more miserable, he noticed that she’d left the room. Well, good. He’d think better without her useless prattling anyway.

But then she’d come back. If his eyes could have widened, they would have, because she was carrying one of the large pillows from his bed and a soft throw blanket that he’d seen on a settee in her— ahem, in _the_ library.

She laid the pillow next to him, then carefully rolled him over so that he was on his back, his head cushioned. She covered him with the blanket, then frowned and hurried out of the room again only to return with a smaller pillow, which she wedged under him at the small of his back.

He was surprised at the thoughtfulness she was displaying, even if he had no risk of catching a cold from laying on the floor. Her common sense was also to be commended. She knew she couldn’t lift him, so she thought to make him as comfortable as possible until the potion wore off. (And it would… in half a day’s time. He had to admit he was glad he wouldn’t have to lie sideways on a bare stone floor for twelve hours with just his dragon hide waistcoat as a token effort toward comfort.)

And she spoke to him the entire time she was attending to these little chores. At first, it was mostly apologies for startling him, then trailed into wondering if he could even hear her, then hoping that the potion wasn’t permanent, then she knelt near his head and searched through his curls with her fingers, informing him that he didn’t appear to be bleeding, though there was the start of a nasty bump. He almost didn’t hear her. He hadn’t realized how… _nice_ it felt to have someone run their hands through his hair. If he could have made a sound, he suspected he might have even purred. (Ridiculous. The Dark One did not _purr_.) (He didn’t think.)

Her common sense was internally applauded by him again when she made a move to clean up the broken glass from the beaker he’d dropped, then decided against it. She spoke out loud, saying that she’d better leave it to him, since it would be disastrous if she accidentally touched the potion and both of them couldn’t move. He thought she might leave after seeing to his comfort and safety, but he was surprised again when she returned a third time with a tea tray, which she set on the floor near his head.

A bit of effort and she was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his head on the cushion in her lap. She fixed a cup of tea the way he liked it and tested the temperature by sipping it herself before filling a clean eyedropper from his work table to give it to him a few drops at a time. He was able to let them slide down his throat without too much trouble. With her other hand, she held open a book and read aloud to him. (It was some fanciful tripe, but the sound of her voice was lovely to listen to.)

He was amazed. She didn’t leave. It seemed she wasn’t going to let him be alone in a state of vulnerability. Not that she cared about what happened to him, no, more likely she felt guilty for being the cause of the problem.

Still… It was far more kindness than he’d been shown in an era.

When the potion wore off that night, his maid was curled up on the stone floor, sound asleep, her hand still holding the book open. He lifted his head from her lap and stood up, lifting his arms above his head, not so much to stretch but to revel in being able to move again. He was glad of his strange eyes that had made staring into space for hours bearable, otherwise, they would probably have been burning by then. He magicked away the accoutrements of her care as well as the remnants of broken glass and the small puddle of pink potion on the floor and table.

Then, hands on hips, he looked down at his maid, wondering what he should do with her. She’d made him lose a valuable, time-consuming potion, and half a day of work as well. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. With a short sigh, he bent down and scooped her up into his arms.

He carried her into one of the large, elegantly appointed rooms of the castle, deciding at that moment he couldn’t be bothered to take her all the way down to the dungeon. He could have used magic to send her there, but…

She’d taken care of him. He supposed he could return the favor. The thought of owing her something made his skin itch. She’d be closer to her precious library up here, that should make her happy. Not that he was concerned about her happiness.

He left immediately and went to the Great Hall to spin for a while. He was a bit tired, but having remained motionless all day, he wasn’t eager to go to bed just then. Instead, he felt the urge to empty his head, to not think for a while, to not dwell on… his reasons for returning a kindness.

(When Belle woke up the next day with a cough and runny nose from sleeping on the floor of the laboratory, he ordered her to go back to bed, he didn’t want her leaking everywhere. She didn’t mention the tea and bowl of broth that had magically appeared at her bedside at appropriate times over the next three days she was sick… but her smiles toward him were especially warm after that. Not that he noticed… Oh, hell. Yes, he did. There was an answering warmth near his blackened heart every time.)


End file.
